


Cheering Up Sebastian

by Apherion



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apherion/pseuds/Apherion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 short drabbles of how Jim would go about cheering up Sebastian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which There's Something Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for darkerhue as you know her (demented-sniper as I know her). The Sebastian portrayed in this chapter is a 'sadomasochistic' Seb.

It was a normal day, boring, cold. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, huddling under the warmth it provided. His ears listened intently, waiting to hear the high frequency. His anticipation was great, and he stopped chewing his gum. He nearly missed the shot, a window cracking, and then a scream following ten minutes later as someone found the body.

It was perfect, as were majority of Sebastian Moran’s executions.

But when he arrived back at the flat, he witnessed Sebastian sitting near the sill, not gazing up from his perch to acknowledge his arrival. He was looking outside, window cracked, cigarette in hand. He took a pull on it, leaning forward before exhaling the smoke through the crack.

“I thought you’d quit.” Jim shut the door, shrugging of his coat, moving towards the closet to hang it.

“Relapse,” he muttered tersely, taking another drag.

“It’s bloody cold outside.”

“Then get a blanket.” He glared at the sniper, arm hanging on his bent knee, looking so nonchalant, but at the same time, rigid. Something was the matter. If the smoking hadn’t been a clue, this definitely was.

“My flat. Put out the cigarette.” Once the coat was put away, he moved into the living space, approaching him as Sebastian ignored the order. Brown hair appeared a bit tousled, as if he had been running his free hand through it, making it easier for him to grab it and yank his head back.

“Put. It. Out,” he hissed. He glared down at Sebastian in the armchair that had been stationed directly in front of the coffee table when he had left the flat this morning. Sebastian was still deadpanned, lips tight, not responding. He decided quickly, relinquishing his hold on the man, taking off the Westwood jacket, for the first time ever letting it fall unceremoniously on the floor before shoving up the sleeve on his arm. He extended it, the natural Irish pallor of his inner arm bared to his sniper, who only raised an eyebrow.

“Put it out,” he urged a third time, waiting for Sebastian to get the hint. A small glimmer of a smile passed his lips, and the hand brought up the burning fag, his fingers pressing the lit end into Jim’s skin. The searing pain was white hot and exciting. He could smell the fire on his flesh, the ash sinking in and marking him. He grinned down at him, finger winding through the mussed tresses as Jim brought his face close to Sebastian’s, eyes locked on each other.

“Come on, Sebastian,” he purred as their foreheads touched. “Hurt me.” He didn’t need to know what it was that was bothering Sebastian, but if he could give him something to distract him from his thoughts, well, he’d had enough practice distracting himself.


	2. In Which Sebastian is Mopey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for marksmanmoran from tumblr. This Seb is my domestic one, so here: have some fluff.

They decided to go out today. By ‘they’, Jim had decided. Sebastian wasn’t his usual, tentative but perky self, but he didn’t say anything. Locking the flat, they moved to the elevator in companionable silence, though Jim _hated_ not talking. The only times he was quieter were the few times he slept and when they had sex.

He honestly wondered what was wrong.

He looked up at the much taller man, Sebastian’s mouth set in a bit of a frown. He shrugged it off, opting to keep his mind from wondering if _he_ was the reason for why Sebastian seemed out of sorts.

The silence continued through breakfast, which was a first considering the man usually was desperate to get him to eat something, but he hadn’t said word aside from ‘coffee’ and the specificities of how to prepare his eggs. Nor did he appear to acknowledge the fact that in addition to the coffee Jim ordered himself, he chose to have a breakfast crepe of strawberries and pineapples.

Food filled the silence that was dragging on, knives and forks scraping against ceramic plates. He was disinterested in his own food, the coffee still too hot for his tongue, and he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Sebastian anytime soon. He definitely was in a mood, not commenting that Jim was eating without putting up a struggle and trying to assert his authority.

Sighing, once both of them had eaten what they could—his plate considerably still full of crepe compared to the practically spotless one of a male with an appetite. He steepled his hands under his chin, relaxing in his chair as they stared each other down. The bills for the meal had already been placed on the table, waiting for their less-than attentive waiter to bustle over and take it off their hands. He had almost spoken then, but the first response from Sebastian since they had woken up had cut him off, in which Sebastian had shaken his head to say ‘Not here’.

They left, Sebastian leading this time, guiding them towards the park that was a block down.

“Well,” he addressed him expectantly.

“Y’know I can’t keep this up, yeah?” Truly puzzled, he wondered what the man was on about, so he gave him a look. “Christ, I’d just like to have you say it once,” he remarked with dejection. Jim mulled that statement in his head as the part of him that wanted to avoid him being the reason Sebastian was upset realized that was exactly what was wrong. They were too domestic as it was, sharing the flat, the bed, a shower here and there. However, he relented, taking Sebastian’s hand in his as they strolled into the park. Sebastian didn’t protest when Jim pulled him down to his height either, and Jim kissed him softly.

“I love you,” he whispered against his lips, knowing it didn't matter if he meant it or not, because it was what his sniper needed.


	3. In Which Sebastian is Frustrated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for sniper-moran/loyalbloggerwhowaits from tumblr. This Seb's my smut partner, so enjoy.

I’m coming home. –S.M.

Not unless the job’s done. –J.M.

Wouldn’t be on my way to the airport otherwise, _sir_. –S.M.

Good. –J.M.

So it’s good that I dislocated my shoulder and had to spend a week in _the fucking artic_ due to that prat Zalachenko? –S.M.

Of course it is. How else would I be able to continue with what I’m doing here? –J.M.

Un-fucking-believable. –S.M.

You knew the answer to that—why would you think it’d change?. –J.M.

I’m getting on the plane, _boss_. –S.M.

I’ll come pick you up. –J.M.

No. –S.M.

Jim knew he had wronged him. He knew it was his fault that Sebastian was in the mood he was in right now. So he was waiting for him to step off of the plane. He knew he was sore about the entirety of the affair, and Jim couldn’t blame him. If he was one for getting his hands dirty, he’d have been the one roughed up and ready to murder any and all individuals involved for putting him in that state. It didn’t help matters that Jim _knew_ the withdrawal Sebastian would have from receiving copious amounts of sex before having to go cold turkey in the northern most regions of Russia.

Jim leaned against the wall opposite the terminal he knew his lover would be arriving at—no guard would dare try to intercept a man on ‘official government business’ with the signature of the Queen emblazoned on the slip of paper he had shown them. A few minutes later, Sebastian could be see over the heads of a group of giggling girls. All had a look of mischievousness, eyeing the man behind them with interest at many an interval as though each was moving on a turn basis. Wouldn’t they be in for a shock?

When the sniper’s eyes found him, they were hard and cold as steel. That didn’t matter though, and he continued to lean against the wall, waiting for him. Sebastian pushed past the girls, and they practically swooned. Jim moved closer to him, and fingers enclosed around his upper arm. He could feel the bruises forming as he was bodily led into the men’s toilet.

It was empty, and Sebastian shoved him against the wall.

“I don’t want you here.” Jim’s hand went to the front of Seb’s jeans, pressing firmly against the appendage concealed.

“You sure?” He asked, propositioning Sebastian in one of the few ways he knew how to make it up to him. They stared each other down for the longest moment, before hips moved forward into his hand, lips bitten in a bruising kiss. Fingers pulled harshly at the back of his head, tearing them apart as those clear eyes stung with need.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” he clarified, his free hand maneuvering around his waist, grasping his arse as their bodies touched. The blush filled Jim’s cheeks, unwarranted but most assuredly noticed. “But it’s a start,” he murmured, a faint hint of a smile playing on his lips.


End file.
